3. Aryn
Aryn
Sovran and Xeni are locked in a silent stare as my heart slams against my sternum. My mind spins, replaying everything I ever knew about Zadeus and his unnatural power.
“Wait,” Cato says, breaking the standoff as Sovran turns toward him. “Zadeus as in Xeni’s fucking dad? Zadeus as in the motherfucker we gutted in that tunnel?”
“Yes,” Sovran says with an expression that battles between regret and relief. “The same.”
“Just…” Xeni starts, then scoffs and shakes his head hard. “You’re telling me my fucking asshole of a dad is…” He trails off and grips his thigh, squeezing tight as pain and anger war on his face. Bash pulls his hand free and laces their fingers together.
Xeni’s face burns deep red, and his voice comes out raspy. “This was him?”
Sovran drops his gaze again. “It was.”
“He did all of this?” Xeni demands.
Sovran grimaces as he stares at the ground. “The fault is mine. I gave him the power, and I stood aside while it destroyed his mind. He was only the vessel for my lack of judgment.”
“No,” Xeni snaps as he surges to his feet. “No! You don’t get to do that!” He charges forward and shoves Sovran’s shoulders. Ronan and Elas both shoot up, ready to jump in. Bash rushes over to pull him back, but for aloof as Xeni can be, he’s powerful. And right now, he’s angry enough to fight.
He shoves Sovran again as the others struggle to pull him back. “You don’t get to sit there after everything he did and tell me it wasn’t his fault,” he roars. “You don’t get to take that from me!”
“Xeni,” Bash urges, closing his hand around Xeni’s wrist and tugging.
“No,” Xeni shouts, voice cracking. “There’s no excuse for what he did. None! And it isn’t… it isn’t fair for you to paint him as a victim. Do you have any idea what he did to me? What he did to an entire world?”
“I do,” Sovran admits softly.
“Fuck you,” Xeni spits. “Fuck you for making excuses for him, and fuck you for trying to make him out to be anything other than the monster he was. He made his choices.”
Bash tugs his wrist again and this time, Xeni folds, twisting to bury himself in Bash’s arms. His fingers close around Bash’s shirt, squeezing and tugging to get himself under control while Bash pets his hair and whispers into his ear.
Pieces of my past suddenly lock together into a clearer picture. “We never knew how he did it,” I mutter, half to myself. Eyes around the circle snap to me, and Sovran tilts his head in that curious way.
“Zadeus was hunting for scientists,” I explain.
“It was well known that I studied the passage of energy in our world. There was no reason to hide it, really. Not until…” I trail off, rubbing my chest as the memories flood back.
“His soldiers invaded my village. They… killed many. Threatened to kill more until I agreed to come with them.”
“You were a prisoner?” Bash asks, watching me over Xeni’s shoulder.
“We all were,” I argue. We were trapped at Ljómur—scientists, guards, medics, and prisoners alike.
There were some who took sick pleasure in the power they wielded, who enjoyed inflicting pain on others and proudly reported for duty in the mornings.
But mostly, we were forced to do the work that none of us wanted to do.
“Yeah, that’s different though,” Bash argues.
I want to argue that it’s not different—that it’s the exact same fucking thing. A cage is a cage, no matter how you’re tossed behind its bars. But it’s not worth fighting about. Not when there are things happening that are so much bigger than my tragic past.
“It was a long time ago,” I say, as though that makes the story any less awful. “Several decades before the barrier fell.”
Bash’s brows furrow further. “Decades?”
I nod, idly tracing shapes in the dirt with my toe. “Zadeus had secret research facilities in Elyra.”
“Sounds familiar,” Xeni mutters.
Bash stares at me a moment longer. “I didn’t know that.”
“It was similar to Ljómur. There was a group of us, all working on manipulating these force fields…” I trail off as I glance around the circle. A few look concerned, while others are almost skeptical. When my eyes land on Cato’s, there’s a clear challenge in his clenched jaw.
“We didn’t know what we were doing,” I argue, pushing aside the memories of all that destruction. I shake my head, brows pinching as I try to read the expression on Cato’s face. “It wasn’t… I didn’t have a choice. None of us wanted to be there, and I couldn’t risk my family—”
Xeni cuts in, his words so venomous they feel caustic on my skin.
“Of course you didn’t have a choice. If you think anyone could’ve stood against my father, you’re delusional.
” His eye flicks back to Sovran, like he’s too mad to look but needs to ask the question. “That’s why he was so powerful, then?”
“It is.”
“And it’s why I’m so powerful as well?”
Sovran’s lips press into a tight grimace. “As best I can tell, yes. He passed a portion of my power to you when you were born.”
“Yeah, I bet he fucking loved that,” Xeni mutters before turning back to me. “That’s why you were at Ljómur?”
I dip my chin in agreement. “I was his servant. All of us were—you know that. Once he opened the portals, he kept a group of us on either side. He wanted to study them and find the secrets for controlling the divide.”
Xeni chews on his lip. “He wanted to be the only one with the ability to open or close them.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “But a resistance formed. They started fighting harder and gaining traction, and Zadeus got paranoid. The rebels were wary of crossing, so he brought his top scientists here.”
“Wait,” Bash says, shaking his head. “Wait just a… you’ve been at Ljómur since the beginning?”
“I have. My confinement wasn’t as extreme as others”—my eyes find Nyx’s solemn gaze from across the circle—“because he viewed me as important. I was transported when he needed me elsewhere. There were times I had to perform my studies on site.”
“I thought the prisoners were kept at the base?” Cato asks, brow furrowing.
“I didn’t work with prisoners,” I explain.
“Zadeus was paranoid we would learn too much, so our research was split. None of us knew the full picture. My studies were more of nature and how it connects the world… worlds, I suppose. But it wasn’t freedom.
Despite the years I’ve been on this side, I’ve seen very little aside from the inside of his facilities. ”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” Bash asks, his eyes full of sadness on my behalf.
I try to offer him a reassuring smile. “You were in the same situation.”
“Not for a lifetime,” he argues as Xeni shifts in his arms to wrap him in a hug.
“What difference does it make?” I ask gently. “Neither of us controlled what was happening to us. It does no good to dwell on things you can’t change.”
Cato makes a small noise. When I glance at him, there’s a strange expression on his face. It’s familiar, almost, like he understands exactly what I’m trying to say.
Xeni heaves a long sigh and sinks back onto the log, and Bash follows him. Ronan and Elas share a quick look, deciding there’s no immediate threat of another outburst, and settle into their seats again.
“So what happened then?” Xeni asks, the question resigned. I understand the sentiment—needing to know while wishing you didn’t have to hear the truth.
Sovran clears his throat, tipping his chin in my direction.
“As Aryn mentioned, a strong rebel force was growing in Elyra. A fierce warrior led them, and she was gathering masses of followers. For the first time in centuries, Zadeus’s rule was being challenged.
The rebels were wary of crossing between realms, so he fled to the human world to buy time. ”
“What a fucking chickenshit,” Cato scoffs. “What was he going to do here other than hide?”
“Initially, it was to bide his time,” Sovran confirms. “The leaders and generals underneath him weren’t as easily convinced. They feared him, yes, but they feared the unknowns of this side more. In the end, five others agreed to his plan, but they had to be bought.”
“The High Commanders,” Elas says, eyes wide.
“Correct,” Sovran agrees. “It was a ruse, of course. It was always his intention to cast them aside. He believed the humans would worship his powers as they worshipped their religions. He thought they would follow him willingly, and that he would have an army of soldiers and their advanced technology to help him regain the power he negotiated away.”
“Why couldn’t he just overpower them?” Bash asks. “Conquer them like he’d already conquered everyone in Elyra?”
Sovran tilts his head back and forth. “He used an enormous amount of energy opening the divide. That sort of spend takes time to replenish.”
“How much time?”
Sovran shrugs. “Years. Decades. Longer, maybe. He was living in a world not meant for him, using power that didn’t belong to him. None of it followed the natural order.”
“So he was forced to work with the other High Commanders,” Elas says thoughtfully.
Sovran nods. “While he was waiting for his full strength to return, his focus shifted back to Elyra… back to the rebels. He wanted to use his new armies to extinguish them for good.”
“He was going to attack,” I confirm. “That’s what it looked like to me, at least.”
“Well, obviously, that didn’t work,” Cameron drawls.
“It did not,” Sovran agrees. “Some joined him, but most of the humans fought against his rule. Zadeus hated them for it—hated that he needed them for their technology. The gears were already spinning in his head, planning it all out. He’d attack, using the weapons that would have easily overwhelmed the more primitive defenses in Elyra, then turn his attention to the humans when he no longer needed them. ”
“So why didn’t he attack?” Xeni challenges. “Why didn’t he take his shiny new weapons and obliterate the resistance?”
“The portals closed,” I answer.
Sovran nods in my direction. “They did.”
“And you’re the one who closed them.”
“I am.”